


Coconut M&M's

by Brithna



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brithna/pseuds/Brithna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miranda learns to share the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The other night I was watching a movie and eating some candy that I really shouldn’t eat. And then later I was trying to get my calendars all merged together. And then one thing led to another. So whatever. This is better than crying, not eating and not sleeping. Right?

Tonight of all nights, Miranda wasn’t sure why she wanted Emily here this late. Considering the volume of annoying sniffling she’d had to suffer through from the redhead this week, Emily should have been long gone. Four days of that in Miami were enough. Far more than enough.

But, having her in the office tonight did, in fact, serve a purpose. It provided Miranda with one last chance to figure this out. This puzzle. This puzzle that when solved, could mean the end of everything.

She had to be wrong. What happened on Wednesday night could _not_ be what Miranda thought it was. Could it? It didn’t appear to be true. Not when you compared it to this morning. This morning, walking into her office for the first time all week, Miranda was met with a smile that took her breath away. A smile that was all-knowing, yet so innocent. A smile that made her want to rush forward like a complete fool. A very willing fool.

Of course, that smile had been there to greet her for almost two years but only six months of those years counted—which was hard to believe. It seemed longer than six months so just to keep it all straight in her head, Miranda made sure that specific dates of importance were marked in code on about six different calendars—including the one on the refrigerator at home. Essentially, stars, drawn with a blue felt tipped pen, were everywhere; one for each month that passed and even more for all the smallest, simplest things that never would have mattered to Miranda before.

But would there be another six months to follow? Or even one?

Miranda shook her head and turned toward the window, wondering if there was some way to make sense of all this. Truthfully, she was hardly ever _sensible_ and every single relationship Miranda had ever been in—including this one—was evidence to that fact. There was no way to deny that Miranda was prone to infatuation. When your life’s work is based around the finding of that ‘next big thing’, infatuation is just _one_ of the _many_ hazards she faced. Yet, none of the rest of those hazards affected Miranda’s life in quite this way. This infatuation problem had, over the years, nearly ruined her time and time again; bringing her back around to the simple reality that she was still a woman. A woman who’s head could be turned. A woman who could get caught up in the moment. Many moments.

When the divorces and breakups from those _moments_ came along, infatuation turned out to be a bitter pill to swallow, and there was never anyone else to blame but herself. Her first marriage ended in Miranda’s own inability to keep her hands to herself. When she fell into bed with Keith—a man she met at a party only two days before—Miranda couldn’t even bother to take her wedding ring off. Afterwards, there was a nasty divorce, nasty reporters, and her infatuated heart was left broken not once for the loss of her husband, but twice because as things unfolded, Keith hadn’t wanted to stick around. Late one night he very quietly left her bed and moved on, far away from her and her troubles.

A handful of short infatuations later—several of which could only be described as a ‘one night stand’—she found Stephen. Subsequently, Miranda managed to get herself so caught up in the moment, she married him two months later thinking that he not only looked good beside her, but that he looked good with her children as well.

For God’s sake, if Miranda thought about it long enough, it was like she’d been collecting charms for her favorite bracelet from Tiffany’s for no less than thirty years.

At least she could say she hadn’t cheated on him. This time, with Stephen, Miranda kept her infatuations in check, but only because she was forced to focus on keeping her head off Irv’s chopping block instead. Even Miranda knew when you’re trying to save your career, there’s hardly any time to _just_ be a _woman_.

But even though she hadn’t cheated on him, Miranda certainly couldn’t claim much else. While busy saving her neck, Stephen slowly became the least interesting thing in Miranda’s life. In turn, Stephen began to care less and less for a woman that didn’t pay him any attention and soon found someone who would. And to be honest, no matter how good he looked in all the family photographs artfully displayed for all the world to see, the very last thing Stephen had ever wanted to be was a father.

Once he was gone, Miranda, who was anything but _sensible,_ still had the nerve to _cry_ when it came to the Press and her children. To date—that was one of her most inexcusable displays of weakness. She didn’t cry for long though. Divorcing Stephen was far easier, considering the circumstances, and by then the children were surprisingly good at ignoring the Press. Too good.

Once all _that_ was over with, Miranda’s little infatuation problem popped back up again, of course.  And this time…a woman half her age would be standing right in front of her: her assistant, Andrea Sachs.

Well, Miranda, as always, got what she wanted and ironically, for six whole months her wandering eyes had not _wandered_ anywhere else. She’d remained fixated on Andrea this entire time; which was basically a miracle considering Miranda’s past. Two solid months went by before Miranda realized just how _fixated_ she truly was. It bothered her. But not too much.

Andrea was just too beautiful and looking elsewhere seemed rather pointless. That’s all.

So with Miranda as _unbothered_ as possible, she and Andrea had been busy getting caught up in all sorts of little moments. In fact, one of those little moments was supposed to be happening right now; but Miranda was too busy being _bothered_ by what _had_ or had _not_ happened on Wednesday night.  

Miami had taken up her whole week, obviously, and Irv tagging along certainly hadn’t helped anything. But in spite of her Valium prescription running low, Miranda dealt with it all far better than she thought she might.  Speaking with her newest and longest running infatuation on the phone every night—sometimes in the afternoons too if she could get free from Emily long enough—seemed to go a long way in calming her nerves. And Andrea emailed her time and time again. Most of it was just her rambling on, but Miranda ate up every word of it and whenever she was just about to break Irv’s neck, she’d pull out her phone and re-read one of those emails for the hundredth time instead. In short, those phone calls and emails were what kept Miranda sane and in a moderately good mood…until Wednesday night.

Having successfully escaped a dinner rather early, Miranda jumped at the chance to return to her hotel room. Anticipation flooded her system; all she’d wanted was to make a phone call that could last more than a few minutes. It seemed to take forever for Andrea to answer the phone but just before Miranda lost her patience the girl finally answered. Miranda could hardly hear her say, “hello”. Loud music filled the air on the other end of the phone; the sound of people’s voices came through loud and clear. A lot of people…which could only mean Andrea was at a party.

Miranda barely let her speak at all before abruptly saying her “goodbye” and shutting the phone off.

For a moment Miranda had no idea what came over her or why her chest suddenly felt as if an elephant had taken up permanent residence there. But, after laying in bed, wide awake for about an hour, Miranda finally figured it out.

Her infatuation was _out_. With someone else. Having an awfully good time by the sounds of it. And Miranda was jealous. Worried. But most of all, suspicious because she had no prior knowledge of this party. It wasn’t on the schedule. Granted, it might have been a last minute addition to Andrea’s week but surely she would have said something in one of her many rambling emails. And besides, they rather pathetically shared a Google calendar where work hours were blocked off in a pale shade of green and possible free time they could share together was colored in a light shade of blue. Last but not least, free weekends—without the twins—were colored in dark purple.  Everything outside of work—social events that had nothing to do with work or other things of importance—were also on that shared calendar in orange so they would both be “in the loop”. It was all strangely domestic. And it had been Andrea’s idea…but admittedly, Miranda, with hidden enthusiasm, had chosen the colors.

As if pouring salt into a wound, tonight was the start of one of those free weekends; the twins having opted to spend some extra time with their father for once. Or it would be a free weekend if Miranda ever let Emily leave the office. But Emily couldn’t go yet because Miranda still wasn’t done trying to work this out in her mind.

What if Andrea’s head was the one now turned? What if Andrea had been caught up in some moment that had no room for Miranda in it? Yet, she’d sounded happy to hear from Miranda that night and not the least bit nervous or guilty. And let’s face it, Miranda could sense nervousness and guilt from miles away. Even in her sleep.

One thing kept eating at her though: what if Andrea assumed that seeing someone else wouldn’t be a problem? That was certainly something for Miranda to chew on while she sat there looking out her office window at a darkened skyline; because when had she ever spoken on the topic of exclusivity? Never. She’d never had the need to with those brief infatuations… Because they were either _brief_ or she married them.

Honestly, there weren’t many times when she looked upon Andrea as a mere infatuation anymore. That’s not to say that she still wasn’t _infatuated_ with the girl, but that one word didn’t do her feelings justice any longer. The fact that they had lasted longer than any of Miranda’s many _infatuations_ ever had—spoke volumes. Too many volumes to ignore. And now Miranda was sitting here jealous, worried and most of all—suspicious that Andrea just might be doing the very same thing Miranda had done time and time again to the many men that had caught her eye over the years.  

Miranda’s next thought was the very meaning of that old saying ‘the pot calling the kettle black’, but the thought crossed her mind nonetheless and had several times since Wednesday evening. The hard fact was: Andrea herself was no saint. Like Miranda, she had delved into _Infatuation Land_ far more than once, finding someone new that held her fancy at the most random of times. In fact, Nate had been her longest relationship. And look how that turned out. Their little ‘break’ resulted in Andrea falling into bed with Christian Thompson less than two weeks later. All that was needed from him was a romantic evening in Paris—dinner included—and one kiss…and then she was in bed with him. 

Their own beginning was no better. Maybe even worse. One kiss. One touch. A gentle caress of Andrea’s flushed skin with the tip of Miranda’s finger…and Andrea gave her everything. Yes, in one evening Andrea gave Miranda her mouth, her clothes and every single square inch of her body. No romantic stroll through Paris or dinner was required.

 And perhaps _that_ in itself played a part in this. It wasn’t as if they could go out in public. Maybe Andrea found someone that would pay her that kind attention. The _outside_ , in the _open_ , sort of attention. Which begs the question: why had Miranda let this go on so long? She should have known that eventually, _that_ would become an issue, wouldn’t it?

Well, there was only one way to find the ultimate answer to this puzzle: Miranda would have to kick Emily out of the office and allow their free weekend to finally begin. And the beginnings of those weekends were almost always the same. Just like that carefully colored and shared Google calendar, it was all strangely domestic: sitting pressed together on the couch, watching a movie.

And this time, the very thought of the word ‘domestic’ didn’t make Miranda pull back in fear of some sort of permanence she wasn’t ready to feel. This time, the thought of it made her fearful of losing something that was far more precious than any new charm for an imaginary bracelet. But fear was never something Miranda handled well.

In fact, fear usually made Miranda do really, really stupid things.

***

When the sound of Miranda’s voice calling Emily’s name reached Andy’s ears, she accidently broke her pencil in half. Opps… Emily sighed, glared then rolled her tired eyes as she rounded her desk to answer Miranda’s call.

Ignoring her, Andy scrunched her forehead and stared at the two halves of her pencil. Just another good pencil sacrificed in the name of ‘Free Weekend’. Great. It was always like this on those Fridays though, just sitting here waiting for Emily to leave. It drove Andy nuts, but this was the _worst_ kind of beginning to a free weekend ever. E-V-E-R. Seriously. Miranda had been gone all week and when she’s swept through the door mid-morning, Andy pretty much had to pretend like her feet were stapled to the goddamn floor to keep from running and throwing her arms around Miranda’s neck like a desperate idiot. A very willing idiot.

And Emily was _still_ here. Yes, worst beginning ever.

“I love my job. I love my job. I. _Love_. My. _Job_.” Emily chanted quietly as she exited Miranda’s office, brushing her fingertips underneath her eyelids, then pressed a pale hand to her forehead. Coming to a stop in front of Andy’s desk, she stood there as if Andy was supposed to guess the ‘whats’ and ‘whys’ of her presence. Even though Andy had recently been told she was a Goddess, she was not, however, a Goddess with mindreading abilities.

In light of this, Andy just kept looking at her latest broken pencil, silently mourning its death, knowing that eventually, with a tone of completely unneeded hysteria, Emily would finally get on with it.

“She is out of her mind, Andrea,” Emily _finally_ began, as she rubbed her temples and squeezed her eyes tight. “Monday’s schedule has just been completely and utterly decimated!” She hissed, then moaned. Her imitation of a martyr was, at the very least, an epic fail tonight. When was Miranda _not_ out of her mind? When was the schedule _not_ in some form of an “utterly decimated” state? And after the week she’d had, frankly, Miranda deserved to be out of her mind.

Travel under _any_ circumstance was difficult when it came to Miranda and the many minions that followed her; but this kind of trip was of the worst sort. Advertisers. Miranda hated advertisers and all the hand-holding and general kissing of asses that went along with them. They were a necessary evil to have around though—if there was to ever be a _Runway_ at all—and Miranda knew this deep down. So, she was stuck dealing with it, whether she wanted to or not.

But there was something else, something far worse than kissing the many asses of the many advertisers she loathed. There was Irv Ravitz.

As Chairman, he was needed, regrettably, to help in all the coddling and kissing and other distasteful things needed to secure the deals and contracts _Runway_ required. Since Miranda considered half her existence on Earth dedicated to the specific purpose of avoiding Irv at _all_ cost, this trip was obviously one of the “most horrible” things she had “ever had to endure” in all her life. Or so she had said. Many times.

Andy had strongly advocated for _strong_ doses of valium throughout the day. Miranda, however, objected, saying something to the effect of, “Andrea, I save the valium for missed deadlines and suggestions of florals for spring… _again_.”  Since Andy was overwhelmingly appreciative for the invention of valium during those times, and considering that Miranda was down to _zero_ refills, it was hardly possible to argue. Hence: a crankier than usual Miranda upon her return. Big deal. Hadn’t they all experienced this before?

Only now Andy experienced that crankiness on a whole other level. Well, not necessarily the _crankiness_. That was pretty much the same torture no matter who you were.  But now there was the anticipation and excitement of seeing Miranda again, even if she was being a complete bitch. Now that they were together…yeah, no matter what kind of mood she was it, it was worth putting up with. And it never lasted long anyway. And especially not on these kinds of Friday’s.

“She’s just tired, Emily,” Andy said, still mourning the loss of her pencil. “Besides, aren’t you tired too?” After all, Emily had been blessed with the misfortune of going on this trip through hell and honestly looked like shit. And her thick, black-purple-green-blue- _ugly_ eyeliner wasn’t Emily helping much.

“Yes, well,” Emily snapped back at her as she turned toward her desk. “You wouldn’t know anything about being tired. I have been up for I don’t even know how _long_ , and I’m more than sure you didn’t get in here until much _later_. You are chronically tardy.”

Well, okay. A long time ago Andy might have been late a time or two but for like the past _year_ she hadn’t been. And hell, for the past six months Andy had _really_ been toeing the line, so to speak, going to great lengths to keep Emily happy. Of course, in order to do that, Andy had to intentionally screw up every now and then so Miranda would have no choice but to show displeasure toward her. Otherwise, Emily would probably start to become far _wiser_ than need be. And so would everybody else.

Thank God, after a rough start, Miranda recognized Andy’s gig for what it was and all was forgiven and forgotten later on. Needless to say, the next time Andy double booked the schedule, Miranda made sure there was double hell to pay to make up for her obvious lack in discipline the first few times.

“On the contrary, I got here at five.” Andy smiled sweetly, wanting to add a very gracious, “ _Shut the fuck up, Emily_ ,” the entire time, but kept that little addition to herself.

“Fine, fine. Whatever.” Emily waved a hand in the air, clearly defeated. Andy smiled again. “Since you’re so chipper and _perfect_ ,” Emily continued, “why don’t you do me a favor for once? I want to go home and collapse. Do you think you can handle the schedule changes?”

At this, Andy blew her bangs out of her eyes, frustrated and incredibly happy all at the same time. “Go. Just _go_ ,” Andy said, finally putting her broken pencil down. “There’s nothing left to do but wait for the _Book_ anyway. I don’t even know why you’re still here.” Again, Andy wanted to add “ _Yes, please. Please go. Please just fucking go already so I can get my hug and my kiss and be totally pathetic!_ ” but obviously kept that to herself too. “I don’t know why you’re still standing here.” Andy repeated flatly, fully prepared to ignore Emily until she walked out. And, finally, after one more very short go-round with Miranda—where Emily received a list of calls she was supposed to make at home over the weekend—Emily left.

Calls from _home_? Yikes, that was going to be fun. So much for any extra sleep Emily might have had planned on getting. Usually, Miranda waited until you had been passed out asleep for at least a little while before calling and waking you up, only to tell you to wake someone _else_ up. Brilliance at its finest. But, Andy guessed that tonight of all nights, Miranda didn’t want to have to do that—hence, the list.

Once she figured that out, Andy grinned and didn’t have much sympathy left for Emily anymore. At least not tonight, especially since the hysteria-inducing schedule changes only took about ten damn minutes to complete.  And besides, this was the start of a free weekend, which, coincidently, was Miranda’s sole reason for such an early departure from Miami this morning. So screw Emily. Free weekends were rare. The girls, agreeing to spend time with their father, were even more so and all week long, every time Andy looked at their shared Google calendar and those blocks colored in purple, she had to take a deep breath while her heart beat faster and faster.

Yet, for all the anticipation, excitement and all the pathetic sighing Andy caught herself doing every time she looked at their shared Google calendar, nervousness surprisingly snuck up on Andy as she dug through the refrigerator in the executive kitchen a few seconds later.

Monday and Tuesday, at least in Andy’s opinion, had gone well. Miranda called when she could and Andy emailed her every morning, having a sneaking suspicion that Miranda actually looked forward to her rambling emails, though she would probably never admit to it. So, the calls and emails on Monday and Tuesday were as pleasant as ever and Miranda barely went on about Irv unless she just could not help herself. Which was often.

But then on Wednesday evening, after an early morning email and Miranda’s rushed afternoon call, things went downhill very quickly and Andy couldn’t quite put her finger on what had been the cause of this sudden change. Miranda barely stayed on the phone for two minutes Wednesday night and had technically hung up on Andy. Which wasn’t like her. Even if Miranda wasn’t able to stay on the phone for long, she never hung up on Andy. Never. And that was pretty fucking awesome in Andy’s book since Miranda used to be notorious for hanging up on Stephen. And she damn sure hung up on the girl’s father at every opportunity.

At the time though, there had been so much going on around her that night; it was hard to dwell on so Andy pushed it to the back of mind for the rest of the evening and most of Thursday and Friday as well. But that wasn’t an easy task.

Miranda called not at all on Thursday and only emailed her once right before their flight took off this morning…which was odd. Thoughts of either emailing Miranda about her concern or calling her had crossed Andy’s mind a thousand times but she remained indecisive. Either that or she was just a straight-up coward. But honestly, there was no way anything could be wrong, right? Just no way. Miranda had probably just been really, really, really busy. And Andy could deal with that. Andy could deal with _busy_.

This morning when Andy saw Miranda’s face, she forgot about her worry and indecisiveness and smiled like the idiot she was. While she didn’t get much of the smile she expected when Miranda walked through the door, Andy at least got a small one once Emily turned her back to put away Miranda’s coat. That made Andy feel better. But only a little. And now she was about to find out what was really going on, determined to not let this carry over late into the night, to say nothing of the entire weekend. So, yeah, she was nervous. Nervous but determined.

By the time Andy found Miranda’s bag of coconut M&M’s and her own bag of Whoppers out of the freezer, most of the hallway lights were off. Knowing they were in the clear—having called Thomas earlier to inform him that she would _personally_ go pick up the _Book_ later this evening—Andy grabbed her laptop, dug a random movie out of her bag and headed into Miranda office.

Taking in a big gulp of air, she crossed the threshold.

The Friday preceding those rare free weekends always—at least for the past four months—began with a movie; in the office of all places. Basically, in an effort to leave _Runway_ as far behind them as possible once they left the building, they somehow managed to find themselves belonging to some sort of clandestine movie club. Candy included. The movie had been Andy’s idea because she knew Miranda had a hard time letting everything go sometimes. The candy, however, had surprisingly been Miranda’s because she had quickly found out that chocolate was one way to make Andy really, really happy—not to mention shut up for a while.  

When Andy tried to imagine them getting caught watching a movie on her laptop while eating what was probably ten thousand grams of sugar, it sounded almost worse than them getting caught having sex. A bag of M&M’s in her hand would probably get Miranda fired much quicker than anything else. Irv and _Page Six_ would have a field day, while _Jacqueline_ , in all her monstrous glory, would probably get to sit in here and eat a pound of the damn things every day and no one would care.

“Hey,” Andy said hesitantly, refusing to bite her lip like she wanted to. Miranda was bent over her desk, pen in hand, studying some paperwork.

“Hello,” she replied a few seconds later and looked up, smiling that same small smile from this morning which didn’t help Andy’s nervousness. And there was something in her eyes…this was out of the norm. By the time they were alone at the end of the day, Miranda was usually a little less reserved with her greetings, smiles, not to mention affection. This wasn’t to say that Miranda was all about hugs and kisses and mushiness, but she could certainly be affectionate in the best ways she knew how.

Fortunately for them both, Andy was more than willing to take Miranda as the woman she was and had never really thought of Miranda as some hugely romantic person anyway. No matter what Andy knew about Miranda’s past, somehow, her showing up at Andy’s door with roses and a box of chocolates, or whisking Andy away for some carriage ride through Central Park just didn’t fit. By in large, Miranda was a woman of few words or actions when it came to just _them_ , which ended up making those times when Miranda did reach over and take Andy’s hand, or lean in close at some random moment or just any small gesture in word or deed, all that more special.

_Although_ , their beginning had been a little different. Way different. But Andy didn’t have any regrets that things were less intense now. In fact, she marveled at the idea of Miranda caring enough about spending time with Andy to willing share a calendar with her, that there was frozen candy and time on the couch, and movies and just… _them_. It made Andy feel like this could somehow, hopefully, last. And she didn’t want to lose it. She didn’t want Miranda to pull away. And if that’s what this was, Andy wasn’t sure what she would do. Probably go nuts. Probably go crazy. Probably flip the fuck out. Which would probably be awful. Because when had Andy flipping out ever _not_ been awful?

Snapping out of her thoughts and worries, Andy nodded down toward the laptop, movie and candy in her hands. “Movie?”

At this Miranda simply got up and carried with her a few files and her pen. “Yes,” she said, making her way to the couch on the far wall. “I was waiting for you, darling.”

Andy smiled brightly and for the briefest moment once again forgot about her worries. The simple knowledge that Miranda had been waiting for her was enough to erase all that. At least for a moment.

“Cool,” Andy walked over and quickly got everything set up. Moments later they were on the couch watching _Madagascar_ for the tenth time, while Miranda pretended to work a little by the soft light of the single lamp they’d left on. Her coconut M &M’s were securely held well away from Andy, as she was prone to theft when it came to any kind of sweets. Andy for her part was more than willing to share her frozen Whoopers, but Miranda would have none of it. Those were decidedly not a vice she cared to enjoy; but anything with coconut was definitely on any menu and, unfortunately, un-sharable.

As the movie started, Andy curled up a bit and threaded her left arm loosely through Miranda’s right. This is how it always was, how it always had been and Andy prayed to God that it stayed this way. And got even better. If she was lucky. So every night and several times during the day too, Andy prayed for strength, stability and, of course, a heck of a lot of luck.

Miranda put down her work fairly quickly once King Julian—Miranda’s self-proclaimed spirit animal—made his grand entrance. That was another thing that could probably get Miranda fired: King Julian. Or animated films in general. Irv and _Page Six_ , yet again would have a field day and _Jacqueline_ would probably get away with plastering Winnie the Pooh all over the office walls. What a _bitch_.

As usual, from this point on Miranda couldn’t help but laugh a little every now and then through the rest of the movie. Yet…she didn’t laugh nearly as much or as loudly; not even when King Julian went on about, “They are…aliens! Savage aliens! From a savage future!” Usually that alone was enough to dissolve all of Miranda’s self-control, causing her to end up crying from laughing so hard because ironically enough, that’s how Miranda felt about every fashion show she ever attended. And, if that didn’t work then his, “Let’s go meet the pansies!” line totally did because that’s how she felt about every board meeting she ever attended. Aliens and Pansies—all of them.

But that didn’t work tonight either. And Miranda had yet to lean in closer. Or kiss her.

Knowing already, just how to fix this one thing at least, Andy sighed a long and tired sigh and Miranda automatically leaned in and surprisingly kissed the side of her head, then her cheek like she’d just remembered that Andy was there. “Are you alright?” Miranda asked quietly, while Alex began to systematically see each and every one of his friends as steak.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Andy said, squeezing Miranda’s arm a little. “I just missed you.”

Miranda reached over with her free hand and put it on top of Andy’s. “I assure you, the feeling was quite mutual.”

Hm. _The feeling was quite mutual?_ Well that was nice, Andy guessed. But not really. Considering this, Andy leaned in a bit more and kissed the corner of Miranda’s mouth, then turned her head with the tip of a finger. For a couple of minutes everything was like it used to be: before Wednesday night. The kiss was deep, passionate, leaving Andy breathless and ready to give everything of herself to Miranda. Like she did every time they were together.

But eventually it ended. Miranda pulled back and there was that strange, thoughtful, confusing look in her eye again too. Andy had no idea how to interpret it. Obviously, Miranda wasn’t an easy person to read but by now Andy was far better at it than most. But not tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Andy asked as she brushed Miranda’s hair back a little.

Miranda blinked a few times and even shook her head like Andy’s words weren’t clearly heard. “Nothing,” she said, faintly. “Nothing at all. Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because I can just tell…something isn’t right. Did something happen on your trip? I mean if you’d rather just go home we can—“

“No,” Miranda interrupted her, pulling back further, even turning back toward the movie. “Everything is fine.”

Well Andy didn’t know what to say after that. If everything was ‘fine’—which it really didn’t feel like that at all—then, _okay_. Maybe it was all in Andy’s head. Maybe Miranda was just having an off night. Maybe she was just tired. Maybe she was just tired of…Andy. _Oh, God._

Andy swallowed hard and turned back to the movie too, allowing that thought to really sink in. It’d been threatening to overtake her for the past few days but she’d managed to keep it at bay, somehow. But now… What if that was it? Maybe it was finally time. Finally time for Miranda to move on, like she always had. Because for some wild reason, she’d told Andy a lot about her past. Some of which Andy already knew but Miranda had freely volunteered a lot about all those ‘relationships’ that sounded more like a collection of trinkets for her to display on a bookcase or something. Maybe that had been Miranda’s way of warning Andy? Of telling Andy that she was just another trinket too and would one day be put on the shelf next to all the others.

But really, it hadn’t felt that way. Until today. For some _wild_ reason, especially over the last few months, it felt like some sort of permanent thing was building between them. Something lasting. This was what Andy had wanted from day one, but still hadn’t had the courage to tell Miranda so. Or what if she’d just screwed up in some stupid and totally unknown way and it was something easy…something easy that could be fixed and forgotten about? She hoped like hell that the latter was true.

Andy, determined but scared out of her mind, put her Whoppers down and pressed ‘pause’ on the movie. Miranda raised an eyebrow but said nothing. “Something is wrong. I can tell,” Andy said, trying to sound confident.

“Beyond being completely exhausted, I can’t imagine what it would be.” Miranda’s voice was eerily calm.

She stared at Andy with that look in her eye again and it confirmed what Andy had already, truly known since Wednesday night:  this wasn’t some stupid screw-up that could easily be fixed.

“But there is,” Andy insisted, even bouncing a little on the couch in her frustration. “Something is wrong and I just wish you’d say it, Miranda. Please.”

Miranda stared at her again and it took everything in Andy to not snap, or scream or jump and down and throw some kind of fit; because for a woman like Miranda—who usually had no trouble speaking her mind when she felt like it—this was ridiculous. So…Andy tried again.

“Miranda, I’m not kidding. Since Wednesday night, something’s been wrong and I really wish you would tell me. Did I do something? Say something?”

Now Miranda tilted her head and Andy knew the answer wasn’t long in coming. That was Miranda’s classic give-away. Whenever she tilted her head, it pretty much meant that all hell was about to break loose.

“Since _Wednesday_ night?” she said, her eyes narrowing. Andy fought not to wince.

“Yeah, since Wednesday.” Andy said. “You called me and then just hung up or whatever…and never called back.”

At this Miranda frowned at first then glared. “I don’t recall you making any _calls_ these last few days either.”

“Well, no.” Andy swallowed hard and looked away for a second, trying hard to figure out where this was about to go. “ _You_ always call, and _I_ always e-mail. That’s just what we always do…” Her voice trailed off.

“Yes,” Miranda tilted her head again. “That is what we always do. On that point you are correct.” There was a pause then and for the life of her Andy couldn’t say anything to fill the silence. But that pause didn’t last very long. “There is something _else_ we always do,” Miranda said.

“Huh?” There were a _lot_ of things they always did so more clarification was definitely necessary.

“Mainly, the calendar.”

As the words left Miranda’s mouth, she stood up and walked over to her desk. While Andy tried to figure out what in the hell the calendar had to do with anything, she watched as Miranda made a game of straightening her desk. The calendar? Huh?

“Yeah…the calendar? Uh, Miranda? I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you? I’m must say…I’m rather surprised at that.” Miranda’s little game of straightening her desk turned into an earnest ordeal; every pile of papers or photos, all nice and neat now, landed back onto the desk with a dull but forceful thud.

Andy swallowed and stood. “I still don’t understand,” she said, feeling smaller and smaller by the second.

“Andrea,” Miranda gestured toward her computer. “If memory serves me correctly, are you not the one that suggested we begin dumping our lives into a calendar?”

_Dumping our lives into a calendar?_ Well… _okay_. Honestly, Andy had always thought it was kinda sweet but… _okay_. “Yeah. Yes. I did. It helps, you know.”

“Oh, yes I know. I know how much it helps.” This time Miranda looked directly at her and Andy shuddered. There was fire in her eyes. Anger. More anger than when good ol’ _Idiot Andy_ had come up the stairs that night. And she still didn’t understand what was wrong. What did the calendar have to do with anything?

“I still don’t unders—“

“Yes, I can tell.” Miranda interrupted sharply. “You don’t _understand_ , but do you take me for an idiot, Andrea? I heard you…on the phone. Wednesday night.” Miranda put both hands on her hips, her nostrils flared and eyes narrowed. “I am not deaf. I know you were out.”

Andy froze. Out? Out? Wait…

“Oh, this is wonderful,” Miranda said with a sneer. “Typical,” she began again. “You have nothing to say? Nothing to contribute? Nothing?”

While Miranda continued to stare and look absolutely evil, Andy thought about the events of Wednesday night and tried to figure out where she’d gone wrong. She’d told Miranda she was going to take… Oh, no. Hadn’t she? Well, she damn sure thought she’d said something but…wait. Oh, no. Andy never got the chance to finish their talk. Miranda could be quite _persuasive_ when she wanted to be, obviously, and she’d had other _ideas_ that night so no, they’d never finished that talk. And then Miranda called her a Goddess…and now this. Now this…

“ _Hello_?” Miranda actually yelled, which shook Andy to the core.

“Miranda, I can explain!” Andy yelled back, taking a step closer, only to be stopped by Miranda.

“Never mind,” Miranda put a hand out then pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t. I’m not even sure I want to hear it. I should have known. I should have known…” At the end her voice trailed off and Andy’s heart started to beat faster.

“You should have known _what_?” Andy said, desperate to get to the part where she could explain, be forgiven and they could just get on with the night. Get on with their movie, and candy, and just being _them_.

“That you would do this!” Miranda said, sounding just about as desperate as Andy. Which was wild. Miranda was never desperate unless Andy was doing something brilliant and torturous. But whatever was going on right now was not brilliant. That’s for sure. It was torture; but it sure as fuck was not brilliant. Not by a long shot.

“I haven’t done anything, Miranda. If you would just let me—“

“No. I don’t want to hear it,” Miranda’s voice was now dangerously low and calm. “The least you could have done though, was tell me you were actually seeing other people. At least _now_ I know!”  

Well. Andy’s head just about turned inside out then. Seeing other people?!?!?! Seeing other people? “Seeing other people?” She finally said out loud. “You think I’m seeing someone _else_?” How in the hell could Miranda think Andy would be seeing someone else? Or would even want to? Apparently she’d misjudged something…somewhere…somehow.

“I heard you on the phone.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that. But what did you hear?” Andy questioned her, losing the fear from early, feeling anger creep in. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She hadn’t.

“Ha!” Miranda scoffed. “What did I hear? _Enough_. That’s what I heard. Enough to know that you were at a party. And I know you don’t go to parties alone. Who does? Not you. And here I was thinking…” Miranda paused and looked down at her desk. Andy waited. Nothing else came.

“You thought what, Miranda? _What_?”

When Miranda looked back up, Andy lost her breath for a second. There were tears in Miranda’s eyes. Tears. Oh, my God.

“Miranda, please let me explain.” Andy tried again at a whisper. If Miranda was—willingly or not—crying, then that meant one thing: Andy had been right all along. From day one she’d known, hadn’t she? And she was right. Andy wasn’t just another trinket that Miranda would put on a shelf one day. No, Andy wasn’t a trinket to Miranda at all. She was something lasting. Something permanent. And now Miranda was afraid. And if there was anything in the world that Miranda didn’t handle well—besides Irv—it was being afraid.

But, if Miranda wouldn’t listen to her, then it was all for nothing. Wasn’t it?

“I don’t want to hear it.” Miranda said, still looking down.

“But you should. I think you do want to—“

“I said NO! I don’t.” Again, Miranda yelled. That in it’s self was scary. Then again this could be the end of everything, couldn’t it? So it didn’t matter if Miranda was screaming, yelling, whispering, typing this out on a computer screen; no matter what way this was expressed, it was scary.

And then, it got worse. Way worse.

“I don’t want to hear about you going out with someone else, Andrea.” Miranda’s voice cracked and Andy was pretty sure she felt part of herself crack too. Mainly, her heart. “You could have told me,” Miranda continued. “I had no idea you would…I thought… God, I’m not sure what I thought but this wasn’t… I’m such a fool.”

“You’re not a fool, Miranda.” Andy pleaded, her heart sinking a little more with each word. “You just won’t listen to me. Why won’t you listen to me?”

“Why should I?” She said, finally looking at Andy again but it was almost like Miranda wasn’t seeing her at all. Her eyes were blank. “You’re just doing what _you_ do. What _I_ do…or used to. That’s all. Finding something else. Someone else. That’s all.”

If Miranda’s eyes were blank then Andy’s entire body was now. From head to toe there was nothing. No feeling. _Doing what you do?_ Doing what you do…

“You’re throwing the past in my face?” Andy managed to say through the lump in her throat, forgetting all about the calendar, and explaining, and being forgiven. No, she wasn’t in the mood to be forgiven. Now she was just pissed off because there’d never been any judging each other for their past. They’d both done their fair share—and then some, in Miranda’s case—of playing the field, so to speak. But never had they judged each other for it. Never. And now this. Now she was being judged. By Miranda. Who had no room to judge anybody for anything and was only doing this shit because she was afraid of losing something. How fucking great.  

“Stating facts is more like it,” Miranda answered her finally. “It’s just the truth.”

“Oh, the facts. You’re stating facts?” Miranda didn’t know a goddamned thing about ‘facts’. “And what about you, Miranda?” Andy asked. “What about _you_?”

“What about me?” Miranda glared.

“Are you seeing someone? How was _Miami_?” Andy knew that was way below the belt but didn’t care. This entire conversation was below the belt. Wasn’t it?

As if there was an actual switch in Miranda’s head, her eyes lit with fire instantly. “How was _Miami_? It was just fine, Andrea. As _always_.”

As always? Oh, _okay_. “As always?” Andy took two steps forward. “So, you are seeing someone else. Have a lot of _fun_ while you were away? I’m surprised you had time to call me at all.”

Miranda faltered for a moment, her eyes closed for a split second and she swallowed hard. And yes, Andy knew that was _waaaaaay_ below the belt too, but still didn’t give a damn. She would make her point.

A moment later, Miranda spoke. If anyone else had been watching, they’d have never noticed the delay. But it was there.

“No, Andrea.” Miranda came out from behind her desk and took a step forward, barely breathing. “I’m not seeing anyone else. It seems I’ve left that all to you this time around.”

“Apparently, you have.” Andy nodded and swallowed, refusing to cry…because Miranda was. Again. She had tears in her eyes again.

“Yes, well…” Miranda blinked and set her mouth in a thin, hard line. Andy looked down at the floor.

She knew Miranda, knew Miranda would never hear her. Not really. Not right now. Miranda, at this point, would think Andy was lying. No matter how wonderful the truth was, Miranda would think she was lying. So right now, there was no use to continue because if Miranda’s temper was _terrible_ , then Andy’s was damn near _explosive_ and she was far less practiced at keeping it cool, especially when it came to just _them_. Because this was a first. They’d never fought before. In fact, Andy was pretty sure that once she was no less than two feet away from the building, she was probably going to do just that— _explode_. Because guess what? Wednesday night _was_ on the calendar. Even though they’d never _finished_ that conversation—the events of Wednesday night were, in fact, on the goddamned calendar.

That block of time was just colored in the wrong shade.

It was colored wrong because they’d never talked about what color it should be to begin with: the day when Andy would finally get a little closer with the twins. While they _obviously_ knew something was going on between her and Miranda, Miranda kept Cassidy and Caroline at somewhat of a distance. Probably because she expected her and Andy to end up like all the rest of Miranda’s relationships and marriages had. But they hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down one single time in six months. Not one time. 

But in any case, they’d never discussed what color _that_ block of time would be in or if that time would ever come. Yet, Miranda had breezed by the topic a time or two in passing. Like saying something as easy as, “I’m sure the girls would have loved for you to be there.” Wherever _there_ happened to be at the time. Then Miranda would just as easily pretend like she’d never said such a thing at all.

Subsequently, the birthday party Andy took them to at an arcade—instead of Cara—was colored in _orange_ when really, it should have been colored in something like neon pink or maybe neon green. Something bright and bold. Something that could never be mistaken for anything else. Something that wouldn’t fade. Something lasting.

“You should go,” Miranda said, looking at the floor now too. She looked defeated, destroyed really; but Andy knew in her heart that Miranda wouldn’t listen to her yet. Not yet… She would have to figure this out on her own first. Which meant Andy at least had one more thing to say.

“Fine,” Andy said, forcing herself to stand straight and level. Without looking at Miranda, Andy turned and headed for the door. “I’m going home. But before I do,” Andy stopped at her desk and was surprised to see Miranda was standing in the doorway of her office instead of inside it like she had been few seconds ago. “Before I do,” Andy continued while she gathered her bag. She’d worry about her laptop later. Fuck the laptop. “I just want to clarify one thing.”

“Which is?” Miranda replied quickly. Much too quickly for someone who wasn’t willing to listen.

Andy took a deep breath after slipping into her coat. This was going to hurt Miranda for a good twenty seconds, maybe more depending on how slow her brain connected the dots but – oh, well. This is just what you get when you fuck around with Andy Sachs and her “Free Weekend”, and her frozen Whoppers, and coconut M&M’s that she never got a chance to steal anyway. Yeah, she was about to teach Miranda one hell of a lesson.

“Well, Miranda. I just wanted to clarify that I wasn’t out with some _one_ else.” Yeah, this was gonna hurt. “I was out with _two_ people.” Andy paused for just a second. Long enough to see Miranda’s face go abso-fucking-lutely white, then she finished. “Yeah, we had a great time.” Andy forced herself to grin while Miranda held onto the door frame with a white-knuckled grip. “And as far as the calendar goes…that you say we _dump_ our lives into? Well, it’s on there. My _date_ is on there.” While Miranda went a little paler, Andy shouldered her bag and prepared to make her escape. “But I guess this is what I should have expected. You. To not trust me. And yeah, okay, I guess I fucked up because I never asked you what color I should use when I _see_ other _people_. So, for that, I’m sorry. I’m going home. Enjoy the rest of the movie.”

There at the end her voice wobbled a little, but whatever. She wasn’t backing down. Just saying all that made her completely furious all over again so _what-ev-er_. Miranda should have let her explain fifteen minutes ago. Better yet—Miranda should have trusted her. Better still—Miranda should have figured this out way before now: She hadn’t so much as _glanced_ at another person—unless it was to tell them they looked completely horrendous—in six long months and neither had Andy. She didn’t want to because she was in love! And Miranda was in love with her too… A _crying_ and far less than _sensible_ Miranda was in love with her too.

That being said – They were both done playing and even if Andy had to staple Miranda’s ass to the couch every other Friday night, they’d be plastered together watching some stupid movie for the next millennium. And damn-it, Miranda was going to learn to share her M&M’s too because that was just wrong. Just _wrong_. To withhold chocolate? Any kind of chocolate? Who does that? No one. Or at least no one that Andy knew and lived for long.

By the time Andy stepped into the always waiting town-car she’d really worked herself up into a downright explosive mood. And Roy could tell. She knew that for sure.

“Uh, Miranda on her way down?” He actually grimaced when he looked at Andy in the rearview mirror because he wasn’t stupid. Roy knew about them. He knew the routine on Friday’s like these. Work late, then a movie, then home. He knew the routine.  

“No,” Andy said, raising an eyebrow that could beat Miranda’s any day of the week.

Roy winced again. “So your apartment?”

“No. Take me _home_ , Roy.” Andy said, because why in the _hell_ would she be going to her apartment? She was going _home_ because as of twenty minutes ago, there was a heck of a bunch of shit she needed to get a handle on. And M &M sharing was just _one_ of those many things.


	2. Chapter 2

Watching Andrea walk away toward everything that wasn’t Miranda, wasn’t _them_ , caused her to almost hit her knees. In fact she did. In her head she did and in her head she screamed. In her head she was lost.

Two people. What was that supposed to mean? Two people. And that grin. Her face. That grin. Two people… And colors, blocks of color. As if Miranda would have, or should have chosen them for such an occasion? Well, she hadn’t known she needed to. They’d never talked about… She never thought she needed to… Because she was in love. Miranda was in love—nearly the entire time. And she stupidly thought Andrea was too.

But apparently she wasn’t. Apparently, all those little stars Miranda drew on six different calendars—just to keep everything straight in her head—were all for nothing. Those moments meant nothing. They were nothing.

Like the moment Andrea held her hand in the back of the town-car on the way to some meeting Miranda, suddenly, couldn’t have cared less about. And Miranda had gladly kept her hand there, tightly and willingly. The feeling of it lasted all day long and then some.

Like the first time in Miranda’s life she’d been able to sleep past six o’clock in the morning. And gladly too. Without one single regret, even though there was virtually a mountain of work waiting for her in the study, she’d slept until ten that morning. And what woke her was definitely a sight Miranda would never forget: a beautiful, half-naked woman carrying what would end up being the best cup of coffee she had ever tasted.

Like the time they’d stayed up until two o’clock in the morning; not having sex, but watching _Excalibur_ —featuring an extraordinarily youthful looking Helen Mirren—all because Andrea said, “Everyone has to see it at least once in their lives.” So, Miranda had watched it. And willingly too. Holding onto her coconut M&M’s tightly because that wicked girl was an awfully good thief. Somewhere along the way, during a commercial break, Andrea declared that the Syfy Channel had been made by God specifically for her. Miranda hadn’t had the heart to tell Andrea that she’d barely been in school when the beginnings of it were actually conceptualized by a husband and wife in Boca Raton, Florida of all places. In the end, _Excalibur_ turned out to be alright but it was the arms Miranda fell asleep in afterwards that turned out to be the real prize.

Like the moment when flowers, mysteriously arrived at her desk at _exactly_ 2:36 in the afternoon one day last October. It was a Friday…and at exactly 2:36 they arrived. Roses. Two dozen. At the _exact_ time she’d given birth to two precious baby girls. Her two precious girls. _Two people…_ And on that day twelve years later, Miranda would fall in love because two dozen roses arrived on her desk at _exactly_ the same moment.

_“I was out with two people.”_

Miranda nearly broke her foot trying to get to her desk when the dots finally connected, tripping over a chair she’d forgotten was behind her.

And then she almost locked herself out of her Google account, scarcely able to type her password in correctly.

But she finally got there. Finally managed her way into the calendar that held all the answers if she’d just looked closely enough in all the times she’d looked at it since Wednesday night. Finally managed to see that she was an idiot after all.

Because it was on there. That _date_. Andrea’s _date_ was on there...colored in orange.  The orange block just said ‘C/C Birthday Party – Arcade’. If she remembered correctly it was for their friend down the street, Dylan. And Cara was supposed to take them. That was in the notes, or had been. But Miranda never clicked on the notes. She just assumed that Cara took them, that Cara had _still_ taken them. She’d never clicked on the notes. She’d just assumed…

Taking a deep breath, and with only one eye open, Miranda clicked the orange block to bring up the notes. And there it was. According to the calendar, Cara had suddenly been granted a reprieve, and in her place Andrea had escorted the girls off to a night of fun.

And now that she thought about it, like _really_ thought about, Andrea had tried to tell her. A few nights before Miranda left for Miami, Andrea had _tried_ to tell her. But Miranda had been too busy to listen. Too busy ridding the other woman of her wardrobe and everything underneath it. Too busy kissing her. Too busy wrapping herself around the girl she loved, inside and out. Too busy to listen to the fact that Andrea quite obviously wanted more. More than just _them_. More than just her and Miranda. She’d been trying to tell Miranda that unlike all those other _infatuations_ , she wanted Miranda’s daughters too.

And Miranda hadn’t listened.

All she’d done was run straight toward the worst scenario her mind could conjure up and hold onto it just as tightly as she ever did her M&M’s. And now she was sitting here in her office scared out of her fucking mind. Scared but determined. There had to be a way to fix this. There had to be. There just had to be. Because she was in love. Because they were _both_ in love.

In lightening speed Miranda gathered her coat and bag. Fuck the _Book_. It was laying there, down the hall, waiting on someone else’s desk for Andrea to pick up but – fuck the _Book_. Miranda had no time for that. No time at all.

“Roy.” She barked into her cell phone, practically running toward the elevator.

“I’m here,” is all he said. That’s all he ever said but this time it didn’t really sound the same. But no matter. Miranda didn’t have time to worry about Roy tonight. Not that she ever did anyway. But tonight certainly wasn’t the night to start.

As always Roy was standing there waiting on her with the door open. She slid in quickly and it was all she could do to not scream at him to get in faster. Finally he was behind the wheel though and before he could even turn the key Miranda said, “Take me to her apartment, Roy.” Because he knew. Roy wasn’t stupid. He knew.

Roy, however, did not move the car in any direction at all. Which was rather aggravating.

“ _Go_ , Roy. I do not have time to wait.”

Roy still didn’t move, but he did at least look at her in the rearview mirror. Even in the dimly lit town-car, he looked pale. And scared. Just like she was.

“Roy!” She carelessly let her voice rise and shockingly enough, this had absolutely no affect on the man.

“She’s not at her apartment, Miranda.” He sighed and looked away for a moment. “She’s at home.”

 _Home_. She’s at home? Oh… Miranda’s heart leapt into her throat. She was at home. The townhouse. She was there. So this couldn’t be quite as bad as it felt, right? Not nearly as bad. Fixable at the very least.

“Well, then?” She raised an eyebrow and glared at him. “Go, Roy! _Go_!”

Roy sat still and tugged at his collar. Miranda couldn’t help but notice now that his tie was long gone which wasn’t like him. He was always a ‘by-the-book’ sort of man when it came to dressing for work.

After what felt like the length of time it took to watch _Excalibur_ all over again, Roy finally spoke. “I can’t take you home, Miranda. She uh…well,” he swallowed and turned around in his seat to speak to her. “Andy said you can’t come home yet.”

What? “She _what_?” Miranda asked, completely mystified at the thought of being denied entrance into her own home.

“Yeah…”

“I don’t care,” Miranda said. “Take me home immediately, Roy. I mean it.”

Roy shook his head and went pale again. “No can do. I have orders.”

 _Orders_? Orders? “ _Orders_?” Miranda finally managed to say aloud.

This time, instead of tugging at his collar, Roy just gave up altogether and unbuttoned the top two buttons. Miranda could swear she saw a bit of color return to his face.

“Dry-cleaning first.”

“Dry-cleaning?” Miranda said, in some weird, high-pitched voice she didn’t even know she could produce. 

“Yes. Dry-cleaning,” Roy said _dryly_ then pulled out into traffic.

For a while Miranda said nothing, contemplating what else Roy might have been told—or wait, _ordered_ to do.

“Did she say anything else?”

This made him cough and beat his fist on his chest a few times to clear his airway. Miranda felt a chill run up her spine. This couldn’t be good. Then for some reason an awful lot of time went by without Roy answering her. Which was aggravating. “Roy,” Miranda said sternly, not in the mood for games. “Answer me.”

They were at a red-light so he turned in his seat. “Oh, _yeah_ ,” he said finally. “She had a _lot_ to say. Lots and lots…”

Miranda, not ever one for cursing could have certainly said a few choice words at that particular moment but refrained. Somehow. “And what, might I ask, did she say?” Miranda’s tone was light but threatening in that ‘give-me-some-fucking-answers-now’ sort of way.

So, Roy gave them to her. After all he wasn’t stupid. Just as he pulled up to the clearers—which Miranda had never been to in her life—he put the car in park and once again turned around. “Okay, okay, alright.” He paused for a second to wipe sweat from his forehead. Miranda felt that chill run up her spine again and took a deep breath. “She’s pissed, okay?” He said. “She’s pissed. What did you do?”

What a question! What did she _do_? And for Roy to ask. Roy, who had no right to ask. Yet, he knew about them and was obviously knee deep in something here. Possibly neck deep. Like her.

 In light of that, the truth would only do.

“I might have,” Miranda started hesitantly, wondering just how to word this, wondering just how to say ‘I am an asshole’ without actually saying the words. “I might have misinterpreted something…and accused her of seeing someone else.” By the time the last words were said, Miranda’s eyes were closed. She didn’t need to or even _want_ to see the look on Roy’s face.

There was a moan, like he was dying really. Miranda finally opened her eyes and Roy was bent over the steering wheel with his head in his hands. Through all that she heard him say, “No wonder. No wonder. Miranda, how much of a _dumbass_ can you be?”

To that Miranda really didn’t know what to say because she was a dumbass. There was no answer to why or how. She was just a dumbass, in that moment at least. The biggest dumbass of her life. This was the moment. This was it. And she didn’t know how she was going to get out of it but damn-it she was going to. Somehow, someway.

“I don’t know, Roy.” She said honestly, because she didn’t. Miranda didn’t know. Well, there was the insecurity issue she carried around with her but would never admit to. That, and the past. The pattern. So, yes, okay maybe there was a reason why she was a dumbass. It really didn’t matter now though. It was done. So, Miranda said, “It doesn’t really matter, Roy. What’s done is done and I have been an idiot. So what am I here to do? Are you going to get the dry-cleaning, or what?”

At this he laughed and raised his head from the steering wheel finally and said, “No. Hell, _no_ , Miranda. Hell, no.” At this point he’d never been so informal. “I’m not getting the dry-cleaning. You are.”

“I am?” She said, again in some high-pitched, weird voice. “I am? _How_? What am I supposed to do? I don’t even know. I’ve never even been here. I don’t even know what to do.”

“That’s kinda the point, Miranda,” he said. “That’s kind of the _point_.”

Miranda made no move to get out so he turned in the seat again. He looked a little better. Less pale, almost red in the face, probably because he was angry with her but that was okay. At least he wasn’t dying. Roy sighed and tapped the seat a few times and looked at her, and looked at her again and again. She still wasn’t moving. She didn’t know what to do. She’d never been to the dry-cleaners in her life. She didn’t know how the process worked. What do you do? Go in a say, “Hi, my name is Miranda Priestly and I need my clothes?” What?

“How does this work?”

He tapped his hand on the back of the seat a few more times and said, “You’re clueless at this, aren’t you? You’re clueless. I can’t fucking believe this.”

“There’s no need to curse, Roy.”

“Oh, but there is. There kinda is, Miranda.” he said. “You weren’t in this car earlier. About forty-five minutes ago you weren’t in this car and I’ll say—it was like a little bomb went off. _No_. Like a block of C-4 went off.”

Miranda cringed. Bomb. She could imagine. She could imagine…

“No, don’t even look at me like you can imagine,” Roy read her mind. “Because you can’t. You have no idea, Miranda. She’s _pissed_. You have done _it_. Okay? This is D-Day. D-Day. You’re here. You’re it. This is it. You’ve got to play your cards right or this is gonna be the done deal, okay? The point of no return.”

Miranda knew he was right, but didn’t want to admit it so she just rolled her eyes and looked at him like he was ridiculous. He rolled his eyes right back and looked at her like she was stupid. So it was like an impasse type thing. Nobody made a move. Forward or backward. He was just stating the obvious. She was stupid. He knew she was stupid. What of it.

“So what am I here to do, Roy?” She asked again. Just skipping over everything else.

“Like I said, you’re here to get the dry-cleaning. All you’ve got to do is go in, tell them your name. They’ll give you the clothes. They’ll probably look you up and down like you’re an idiot too because they probably won’t know who you are. But just do it. Just do it. We’ll talk in a minute…we’ll talk again in a minute. I need a second. You’re killing me Miranda. You’re killing me. And I need a raise. Now. Right now. Get out of the car and get your clothes, Miranda.” The locks clicked and she got out on her own. He did not help her.

Miranda slammed the door and looked at this ratty, hell-hole of a dry-cleaners, wondering why in the world her clothes were ever being cleaned here, but guessed that millions of others used this same place so _fine_.

She dreaded touching the door handle. It probably had thousands of diseases all over it. But she did it anyway because if she didn’t, Roy would probably shoot her. There was a gun in the glove box after all. Last time she looked anyway. So she did it.

The bell above the door rang so loud she thought it was going to break loose and the little woman behind the counter stood up and looked at her like she had seven heads, just like Roy had predicted. At this point she probably did. No point in denying that. She felt like it anyway.

It didn’t take long but she finally got her dry-cleaning. The woman behind the counter kept looking at her like she was stupid the entire time. Things didn’t getting any better when Miranda tried to pay her, because, obviously, there was nothing to pay for. This all went on some account somewhere that was paid by someone Miranda didn’t know. It was part of her duty to look good so the magazine paid for the clothes—that Miranda wasn’t given—and they paid for the dry cleaning.

They had even paid for Stephen’s dry-cleaning, just because. Every now and then Miranda had things for Andrea dry-cleaned too. She just put it in with her bag. It felt good. In fact, there were two dresses of Andrea’s dresses in here. She’d left them at the townhouse last week.

Knowing this, Miranda picked the bag up and carried it out to the car with some sort of reverence because it had something of Andrea’s in it. It had something of _hers_ in it…

Fumbling a little bit with the door handle, her bag and the clothes, Miranda finally managed to get into the car wondering how anybody did this every single night and remained sane. And she’d only been at it for five minutes.

Roy seemed a little calmer when she shut the door and got her seat belt back on. But he still didn’t start the car. He just sat there. Miranda knew better than to say anything at this point. She could just tell that tonight, they were not employee and boss. That was all done with. Now that she’d been a dumbass, they were not employee and boss. Not anymore. At least not tonight. At least not until Miranda had been forgive and regained her statues as a human being.

“Well, have you got anything else to say to me, Roy?” She finally asked, after about two minutes of silence. “Besides the fact that I’m clueless. Because I already know that I’m clueless. Thank you very much. I don’t need that pointed out to me one more time tonight. I already know that. I know it…”

“Well, trust you don’t forget it,” he said, looking frustrated again, probably trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t get him fired now. Little did he know, nothing would get him fired tonight.

“Just say whatever it is you want to say, Roy.” Miranda told him. “There are no lines between us. Just say _whatever_. There are no lines… No lines can be crossed, all lines have been _crossed_ already. Just say whatever you feel like saying.”

Roy sighed in relief. He started the car and Miranda knew they had a ways to go to get home. This dry-cleaners had been in the complete opposite direction of the townhouse. And traffic was heavy because it was, after all, a Friday night in New York City. So there were a million stop lights between here and there. A million chances for him to bitch her out. To turn around, point a finger and tell her how stupid she was. She had no doubt that she’d suffer through each one and take it all because it was all true. Miranda was stupid.

It didn’t take long for him to launch in. “Miranda look, I know, you know…damn-it. I know you’re new at this. I know. But you can’t tell me in a million years that you ever thought that girl would cheat on you. I mean, come on! Are you kidding me? Really? You gotta be outta your damn mind! I know you’re a busy woman. I know. I know you got a million things going on but please, _please_ tell me you really didn’t think she was cheating on you. Please, tell me that.”

“I don’t know, Roy. I don’t know. At the time, _yes_ , I did think that,” she admitted. “Because I was afraid though, okay? _Alright_? Cut me some slack.” She rubbed her forehead, barely believing she was having this talk with Roy but—oh well! It was happening and she would make the best of it. She already knew he knew she was an idiot so there was no point in trying to talk her way into better _position_. She might as well just be truthful, pretend like this car was a confessional booth, a confessional booth rolling through the streets of New York City.

Now there’s an idea. He’d be a millionaire in day if he charged enough.

“I just don’t see it Miranda. I just don’t,” he said. “I don’t understand how you could think that Andy could cheat on you. She’s so in love with you. Don’t you get that?”

This kind of shocked her. To know that Roy knew the depth of Andrea’s feelings. Yet, Miranda had not heard those words from her mouth. But Miranda hadn’t said them either. Out loud they’d never spoken it but apparently they’d felt it and apparently Roy had seen it. And god knows who else.

“I know Roy,” she finally said, quietly looking out the window at people passing by. “I know that she loves me. I know that now.”

“Well you’ve fucked it up.”

Miranda sighed. “I know that too Roy.” What else could she say? “Besides getting the dry-cleaning, what else did she say?”

“She said a hell of a lot, Miranda. Told me that the only reason she was ever this _pissed_ was because she was in _love_. She said, and I quote ‘ _The only reason I could ever be this pissed is because I’m in love with her. And I want to kill her. I love her. But I want to kill her._ ’ And that was right before she got out of the car. Between here and there she just ranted and raved about how dumb you were.” Roy laughed a little after that and rolled his eyes. Miranda could just hear it, the whole thing, like it was recorded. Andrea’s voice just echoing throughout the car…

Suddenly, something caught Miranda’s attention out of the corner of her eye and she immediately knew of at least one thing she could get right tonight.

“Roy, is there any other _stop_ I’m supposed to make between here and townhouse?”

“No, do you want make a _stop_?” He asked sarcastically. “Do you want to go get a _drink_? Wallow in your _stupidity_? I don’t think you should do that.”

“No, Roy. I don’t want to stop and get a _drink_ and wallow in my _stupidity_. Thank you. But if you would be so kind as to find it within yourself to turn the car around, I do have one thing I need to do.”

“Oh? And what the hell would that be?” He grumbled.

Miranda just looked at him in the rearview mirror and smiled. “The most obvious thing in the world, Roy, M&M’s. I’m going to go get her some M&M’s. Flowers will not fix this.”

“Oh, but candy will?” He said half chocking. “Candy will fix this?”

Eventually, he turned the car around but kept bitching at her the whole way to M&M World. Which happened to be all the way back at Time’s Square, and on a Friday night too. For God’s sake he really was going to kill her before this was over.

“Look, I know you really don’t have much experience at this thing,” he said, still not done bitching.

Miranda wondered ‘ _experience_ ’ at what but didn’t ask. She figured he’d clue her in in a minute and he did.

“I know you’re new at this crap, okay? I know. I know…you don’t have experience with women. I got it. I got it.”

She almost laughed but didn’t. Experience with women? No, she had no _experience_ with women but she _was_ a woman so that had to count for something, right? He read her mind then too.

He said, “And just because you’re a woman…doesn’t count. That does _not_ count, Miranda. Don’t even, for one second, think that just because you’re a woman that it counts as experience because it doesn’t. It just doesn’t. You’re a clueless idiot. You’re a man. Okay? Just pretend. Just for a minute. You’re dumb. You’re stupid. You’ve _pissed_ a _woman_ off, Miranda, and you have _no_ idea what that means. You have _pissed_ a _woman_ off. She is mad as hell and you’re gonna have to pay. Candy isn’t’ gonna cut it.”

“I know that, Roy. But I’m just going to do this one thing, if that’s alright with you.”

“Well look, when you get with her again tonight, when you see her again, I’m tellin’ you right now Miranda, you better say you’re sorry. A lot. A _lot_. My wife Debbie, we’ve been married for a long time. Nearly thirty years and I’ve slept on the couch many a night because I’m a clueless idiot too. We all are. But you just say you’re sorry and you keep going. Sometimes I’m not guilty okay, damn-it. Sometimes we’re _not_ gonna be guilty. Sometimes these women, they got their own ideas and they just go with it. And we just have to suffer. You have to just put your head down and say you’re sorry. Even though you don’t know why and you deal with it, okay?”

“Thank you, Roy. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” Because there would be a future. She was determined. Scared out of her fucking mind. But determined. And she really would remember what he’d said because she had a feeling he was right. Just because she was a woman didn’t really mean she knew what the hell she was doing, obviously. It didn’t mean a damn thing. She could just tell already. Miranda was a clueless man. And she was going to have to beg for forgiveness. But that was okay. She’d do it. Again and again she would do it, as many times as it took. She’d do it.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Andy glared at her phone one more time then pushed it away, deciding that playing with the silverware again was a better idea. She’d already bent the spoon; there wasn’t a pencil in sight. But she bent it right back so it wasn’t like it was damaged or whatever. Now she was staring off into space again, playing with the fork, unable to shake the feeling that all the things she’d set in motion tonight, might just turn out to be a bad thing; so much time had gone by since she received that text from Roy saying that he was on his way to the townhouse. Poor Roy. He was going to kill her. That or never drive her anywhere again. In fact, after tonight, Roy just might quit.

God bless him though; he listened to Andy rant and rave about Miranda and trust issues and on and on. She never did tell him outright that Miranda thought Andy had been cheating on her though. She’d let him figure that out on his own. Besides, Andy really didn’t think she could say the words out loud: ‘Miranda thinks I’m cheating on her.’ That probably would have made her cry and crying was the _last_ thing she wanted to have happen.

When Andy finally shopped bitching long enough to tell Roy to make Miranda pick up her own dry-cleaning…well he just about died and launched in to one hell of a speech. In fact, he wouldn’t even unlock her door until he’d said his bit, without so much as a break for air.

“Andy, look,” he’d said, “I know you’re pissed off. I get that but you have to consider that she’s just afraid. Whatever’s happened—she’s just afraid. That’s what you have to learn about Miranda. I’ve been driving that woman around for years. For nearly two decades and when she gets scared it’s just hell, okay. It is _Hell_ unleashed on Earth! And she says dumb things because of it. That’s just the way of it, Andy. Now I know it’s not right—“

Andy, she’d started to say something after that because how in the _hell_ was any of that an excuse? But Roy shut her up by quickly waving a hand in front of her face and saying, “ _No_. Be quiet and listen to me, young lady.”

So Andy did.

She shut up and sat up straight like her daddy was talking to her… Ha! Her daddy. Jesus Christ, her parents didn’t know, of course, and Andy didn’t even _want_ to think about telling them. That was a topic for another time anyway and there were much more important things on her plate right now.

Anyway, Roy had kept going. He said, “But you can’t fault her completely. She’s not exactly the sanest person around and her defense mechanism...that’s what this is! This is her defense mechanism against the possibly of being hurt…of losing you.”

Well, Andy never exactly thought about it that way and after she sat there staring at him for about two minutes, she realized he was right. To a point. And _only_ to a point. Andy would only let that excuse go so far. It could only cover so much of this up and excuse it because damn-it, Miranda should know better. Andy would never cheat on her. _Never_. Had the past six months meant nothing? Had Miranda really not gotten a fucking clue somewhere in there? Apparently not.

Andy basically pretended to listen to Roy for another five minutes and after telling her one more time how disastrous the dry-cleaning thing might end up being, he finally let her out of the car.

And yes, her tactics were a little strange but this was all for Miranda’s own good. Of course, there was always a chance that none of this would work; but Andy was determined to try. It might be all for nothing but she was too pissed to even consider failing. That just wasn’t an option. Nobody accuses Andy Sachs of cheating. Nobody ruins Andy Sachs’ perfectly planed Free Weekend. Nobody withholds chocolate from Andy Sachs and lives for very long.

Little did Roy know, picking up the dry-cleaning was only the first of several tasks Miranda would have to complete tonight.

As soon as Andy got into the townhouse, she put her bag down on the table in the foyer and set out to do some real damage. The first thing she did was go upstairs to Miranda’s office to find the biggest block of post-it notes she could and the biggest, fastest red pen that Miranda owned. After that she went back downstairs to the foyer and had herself one hell of a party. She wrote a little nastygram on a post-it: _Take Patricia outside_.  That’s all she put on it: _Take Patricia outside_.

There…that ought to do Miranda a lot of good. She hated taking the dog out. Hated it, hated it, _hated it_. She even bribed Andy to do it a time or two on the weekends when they were there at the house alone. And Andy had done it, of course, because she liked Patricia. Hell, Miranda liked Patricia; for God’s sake Patricia was like Miranda’s third baby—she just didn’t like to take _care_ of Patricia. That’s why there were assistants and dog walkers and last but not least—the kids.

What was really pathetic was the fact that there was, in all honesty, nothing to it because all you had to do was open the backdoor! The backyard was fenced in! All you had to do was open the door and Patricia knew what to do from there and she would come back in when she was good and ready. All you had to do was just sit out there on the most beautiful and expensive lawn furniture money could buy or, if the weather was right, you could just leave the door open and go back inside. It wasn’t like you _always_ had to go for walks around the block or to the park. This was just opening a door. And Miranda hated it.

With a smile on her face, Andy put the post-it on the closet door where she knew Miranda wouldn’t miss it. The bright colors certainly helped too. A neon pink post-it with red block lettering…nope, can’t miss that!

Once that was done, Andy got busy writing another nastygram on yet another post-it. There was one thing in this house that Andy knew for certain Miranda had _never_ done. Taking out the trash… No. Miranda Priestly had never taken out the trash. _Never_. But she was tonight!

Andy wrote: _Take the trash out,_ in red block lettering and put the note on the back door where Miranda would see it when she took Patricia outside. She knew Miranda wouldn’t miss it because the backdoor was white. Just like every other door in the house. Come to think of it, the entire house was white. White and blue…white and blue. Ironically enough half of it was cerulean. Ha! That should have been a clue right then and there; they were destined to be together. That was one of Miranda’s favorite colors and half of the damn townhouse was decorated in it! And there Andy goes and shows up for her first day of employment in what? A cerulean sweater. Brilliant!

When Andy placed the note on the door she stood there for a moment and looked at it as another plan began to form in her mind. She was going to do something else…actually, she’d been thinking about _this_ for a while. Just like she’d been thinking about taking the girls out and getting a little closer with them, she’d been thinking about stepping _out_ with Miranda. Obviously, except for work shit, that was something they did not do. _Ever_. Not beyond sitting on the back porch and reading for hours—which didn’t count anyway. That’s not to say that Andy didn’t love those times. God, Andy loved every single thing about whatever time she and Miranda were able to spend together—she just wanted to move on. For them to be more.

And there was a way around it; the fact that so many others would see them…there was a way to do it safely.

Coincidently, the restaurant Andy was sitting in right now was pretty safe. It was just down the street from the townhouse, only a couple blocks away. Being a Friday night, the place was packed but when Andy really thought about it that actually worked in their favor because it was packed with _local_ people from Miranda’s own neighborhood. Sure they’d recognize her but once you know who Miranda Priestly is, you try hard not to stare. That was a given. So Andy knew they wouldn’t be gawked at and hell, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, Andy was Miranda’s Assistant. She was… _is_ Miranda’s Assistant! So, if Andy was there waiting with a bag full of paperwork and bullshit, what’s to say that the world wouldn’t just see Miranda Priestly and her Assistant, instead of Miranda Priestly and Andy Sachs, two people in love? It wouldn’t be like that. Like _obvious_. No one would know. At least not yet…hopefully…maybe. Unless Andy did something stupid.

So Andy wrote another nastygram. Well, this really wasn’t _nasty_ at all but Miranda might think so. In fact, this might put Miranda over the edge. If taking the dog out and taking the trash out didn’t put Miranda over the edge, then this just might. Going outside. In public. In this kind of a _setting_ under these kinds of _circumstances_ …yeah, this might put Miranda over the edge.

But Andy would just have to chance it.

Girding her loins—as Nigel would say—Andy put the note on the other side of the door so that when Miranda came back in from taking care of Patricia and the trash, she would see it. There was no way Miranda would miss it on account of the porch light.

After that Andy left and walked down to the restaurant. There was a line of course, but during her walk, she called and in no time at all _Miranda_ had herself a back corner table reserved. And that’s where Andy was now. Waiting. With a partially fucked up spoon and…oops, a really fucked up fork. Oh, well! These people needed to buy better silverware apparently. Either that or Andy just needed to quit screwing around with shit. Besides, the waiter was already giving her nasty looks for molesting everything on the table but she couldn’t help it! Her nerves were shot. Popping one of Miranda’s valium never sounded so good. Shit… Andy forgot to pick up Miranda’s refill today. Hopefully, Miranda had at least one left in her purse and would take it now. _Right now_. That’d be a blessing. A real blessing. Actually, that might be the only thing that saved Andy tonight—if Miranda popped a valium or two…or _three_. But Andy had a sinking feeling that would not happen. The last thing Miranda was probably thinking about right now was taking a valium.

To make matters worse, Roy’s text hadn’t said whether or not she’d picked up the dry-cleaning and definitely didn’t give Andy any indication as to what Miranda’s currently state of _ugly_ might be. And it had taken forever. Enough time had gone by for Miranda to go back and forth from the townhouse to Runway about five or six times. Maybe she’d actually sat there and watched the rest of the movie like Andy had told her to do? She hoped Miranda hadn’t done that though…and surely it hadn’t taken that long for Miranda to figure out what the hell had really gone on with the calendar? She _hoped_ Miranda had at least a little bit of sense. Defense mechanism be damned. She _hoped_ Miranda loved her enough to come home. Well, she _was_ coming home. Miranda _was_ coming home. Roy had said that much. And now Andy was nervous. So nervous, in fact, that she’d bent the fork, the _second_ fork on the table. This meant there was now a fucked-up spoon, a fucked-up fork and now a fucked-up second fork. Great. The only thing left untouched on her side of the table was a butter knife.

There were so many people in the restaurant, the voices all around her, Andy really wasn’t sure how she heard it but, finally, she heard Miranda’s voice. When she looked up Miranda was standing at the hostess desk and everything inside her went cold. Miranda did not look happy. Well, when did Miranda ever look happy in public? Never. But something about this just told Andy she was completely screwed. Miranda was here though so that had to count for something, right?

About the time Miranda headed her way, Andy remembered to breathe and blindly tried to get her silverware back in some sort of order on the table. Miranda didn’t look her in the face when she sat down but once she was settled there wasn’t anything else to do _but_ look at each other…and Miranda was furious. So furious that Andy couldn’t understand why her eyes were still blue. They should have been red with flames. There should have been smoke coming from the top of Miranda’s head, out of her mouth, her nose, and her ears. And where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

This is when Andy knew Miranda hadn’t just _seen_ the things left for her on post-it notes. Miranda had _done_ them. She’d gotten the dry-cleaning too. And this restaurant thing was the last straw. This restaurant thing had pushed Miranda to the limit and Miranda didn’t do limits. She pushed against them and broke them every single time. In fact, Irv was the greatest example of all of Miranda breaking limits. Every limit he set—she jumped over it like it was the moon. So what’s to say Miranda wouldn’t do that with this? Just because Miranda had gone to the dry-cleaners, taken Patricia out, and taken the trash out did not mean she wouldn’t do something awful.

Not knowing what else to say, Andy said, “I’m glad you came.”

Miranda pursed her lips, of course, so that right there meant somebody’s career was ended; if there was a career to be ended. Maybe it was Andy’s? At this point it didn’t matter if she fired Andy or not though. That didn’t even factor in. The fact that they worked together had absolutely nothing to do with this. That part of _them_ had yet to be a problem so the prospect of being fired didn’t bother Andy in the slightest. But, in reality, it _could_ be used as a weapon against her. It could. When Miranda was angry, anything could be a weapon.

Miranda finally spoke. She said, “I think you’ve lost your mind.”

The waiter came by with water for Miranda before Andy got the chance to say anything. He left the table quickly though and Miranda had been doing _nothing_ but glaring at her the whole time.

“I already ordered for us,” Andy said lightly while Miranda still glared. “I know you like the pan-seared steak.”

“How very charming of you,” Miranda said in a low and sarcastic voice, _still_ glaring. “Would you like to tell me the meaning of all this, Andrea?” She motioned to the table. “Have you not done enough tonight?”

Andy’s blood started to boil a little at this. Done enough? Hell no! Andy hadn’t even begun to do _enough_. Andy wanted to rip Miranda’s head off. Andy wanted to throw her cell phone at Miranda’s head…the silverware even. So no! Andy hadn’t even begun to do enough.

But of course, Andy knew she couldn’t say all that so she just looked at Miranda…which Miranda grew tired of pretty damn quickly. “Are you just going to sit there and not speak? Am I to endure that too?” she asked, looking around to make sure no one was within earshot; but honest to God it wouldn’t have mattered.

If someone was sitting three feet from them they still wouldn’t have been overheard. The restaurant was so loud and back here at this corner table it was even louder; the voices echoing off the walls, bouncing right back to them.

“What is this supposed to be? You and me? Here?” Miranda asked again, her face turning redder by the second. “I went to the dry-cleaners, by the way. That was a delightful experiences I’ll have you know…simply delightful.” Miranda paused for a second to roughly fan her napkin over her lap. “And then,” she continued, “And then I go to the townhouse and what do I find, Andrea? Post-it notes. Post-it notes all over the house. How childish!”

Andy couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Childish? The only child here was Miranda. “I don’t think it was childish at all,” Andy finally spoke, determined not to falter. She’d done those things, she’d written those post-it notes, she’d told Roy to make Miranda get her own goddamn dry-cleaning so there was no way she could back out.

“Of course you don’t,” Miranda sneered.

For a while Andy returned Miranda’s glare—much to Miranda’s obvious disapproval because she actually frowned. Ironically enough Miranda wasn’t much for frowning. She either grimaced, pursed her lips or just had a blank look on her face most of the time so this frowning thing was a real _treat_.

“Well, Miranda. Did you actually do those things? On the post-it notes?” Andy asked even though she knew the answer and tried her best to sound totally un-phased, not to mention haughty as hell. “Did you take Patricia _out_? Did you take the trash _out_? I see that you’re here so you at least did _one_ of them.”

She could instantly tell that it was all Miranda could do not to get up and walk out. Her fists were actually balled up on the top of the table and she looked at Andy like she’d never seen her before. Like she was just a dumbass college graduate looking for a job that wore bad sweaters and horrible shoes… That is _exactly_ how she looked at Andy. But Andy didn’t shirk back; there was no point in shirking back. She had to remain strong. She had a job to do, there were things she wanted to accomplish and things she wanted to teach Miranda.

Mainly—that Andy wouldn’t ever cheat on her. But on the whole Miranda needed to learn that there were limits to what Andy would take. And, okay… _yes_ , there was a certain amount of bullshit you had to take to be with Miranda. That was a given. Andy knew that. But there was a _limit_ and it wouldn’t be a limit that Miranda could jump over or break either because if she thought picking up her own dry-cleaning, taking the dog out and taking the trash out were bad, then she better hang on to her _ass_.

If pushed, Andy could come up with a mile long list of things to do to Miranda that would be a hell of a lot worse than that but she prayed Miranda wouldn’t try her. That would be devastating. _This_ was devastating enough as it was. Wasn’t it?

Miranda’s shoulders finally relaxed and her jaw unlocked. She said, “Yes, Andrea, I did all those things and _yes_ , I am here. Are you happy? I hope you are because after these _stunts_ you’ve pulled—“

Oh, God…NO! Andy’s brain refused to hear anymore. That was the _wrong_ thing, the _wrong_ thing to say! Andy saw red. Andy saw lights in the back of her eyes. This was like being accused of cheating all over again! “Wait… _wait_!” she pleaded in some sort of weird, desperate and angry way. “Before you really say something you’ll regret… _please_ just _wait_.”

It didn’t take a genius to know that Miranda was about to continue on but before she could, the waiter arrived with their food and Andy had never been so happy to see a pan-seared steak in her life. Before either of them could say or do something they   _both_ would regret, Andy started in on her food—with her fucked up fork—and Miranda, miraculously, did the same with a completely blank look on her face.

There was no telling how much time passed but Andy just kept eating, refusing to speak because right now nothing good would come of it. And the longer she thought about it, maybe this was just how fights with Miranda would have to be handled—with a careful silence. Maybe she shouldn’t have done all those things after all. Maybe going for the first thing that came to mind—those wondrous post-it notes—had been the wrong way. The more she thought about it the more uneasy she became because, yeah, Miranda needed to learn a lesson or two but damn…pushing all of her buttons at once, when she was obviously already experiencing so much doubt and insecurity had just been downright mean.

A little while later, with equally heavy sighs, they both looked up from their plates and surprisingly said, “I’m sorry,” at the exact same time. Immediately, they both turned red in the face and looked away from one another. As hard as it was, Andy didn’t look back up. Bursting into tears right here in this restaurant really wasn’t something she wanted to do but it was getting harder and harder by the second; her eyes were already watering. And then Miranda tipped the scale and those tears fell anyway.

“I’m afraid of losing you,” she stated plainly, like it had been what she’d really wanted to say all along.

Andy looked up, tears streaming down her face for the hurt she felt over not only Miranda’s accusations and resulting post-it note party, but for the simple confession from Miranda that had to have taken everything she had to admit aloud.

To say it was merely touching was like saying winning the lottery was really no big deal at all. Even before Andy fell in love with her, she knew Miranda wasn’t the type to own up to her feelings. Sure, Miranda was one of the most brutally honest people you’d ever meet in your life, but she wasn’t honest at all when it came to how she felt about things on a personal level much less what she was afraid of. For her to finally say this now, well it was like falling in love all over again. How could it be avoided?

“Well, I wasn’t going anywhere, you know.” Andy sniffled and tried to stop crying but the look on Miranda’s face just about made it impossible. If there was any doubt—and there honestly never was—that Miranda was in love with her, then it was officially eradicated by her eyes. The look was soft, regretful and most of all...open. Right now, in one look, Miranda Priestly was completely open to Andy.

“I realize that,” Miranda said. “I might have been severely late in doing so, but I realize it. And I apologize.”

“Me too.” Andy paused for a second to brush the tears away. She seriously had to get a grip since her seat just happened to be the one facing the sea of people who were all probably doing their best not to look but were also probably failing miserably. “The post-it notes,” she shrugged and looked down at the table, “I really shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was…effective.”

Andy looked up, surprised, of course. That was really the _last_ thing she expected Miranda to say about it.

Miranda returned her earlier shrug. “Patricia, I’m sure, greatly appreciated it at least. And I’m sure Cara will be delighted to find herself with one less duty come Monday morning.”

“Yeah, but I am sorry.” Andy winced just trying to imagine what Miranda’s expression might have been after seeing the first note. “That was kind of like pushing every button you’ve got.”

“After what I did, I’d say you were allowed. But if it takes care of your tears, I accept your apology and I hope that you would do the same. I will not doubt you again, Andrea.”

Miranda stopped then but Andy could tell she wasn’t finished. Her jaw was set firmly and in a highly uncharacteristic move, Miranda placed both her elbows on the table and leaned forward. Andy held her breath.

“And I am especially sorry for the calendar. What I said before…about throwing our lives into it.”

The way Miranda’s voice had faltered in the middle only made Andy’s tears return. That _had_ hurt. All along, Andy thought the calendar idea was pretty brilliant since it ended up helping Andy get more time with Miranda that didn’t involve Runway. Miranda had seemed to like it too so when she’d made that remark…yeah, it had kind of sucked, actually.

“Well, my apology certainly did not have the outcome I had planned for,” Miranda said and before Andy could comprehend what was really happening, Miranda reached across the table and brushed tears away from one cheek and then the other. Holy shit…

Seeing the look of shock on Andy’s face caused Miranda to pull her hand back and Andy regretted the reason for it. In spite of why, being here, out in the open with her was a good thing but, seriously, they couldn’t…

“I know what you are thinking,” Miranda said sternly with a raised eyebrow that got Andy’s attention. “But I’m warning you, Andrea. An hour ago I thought I’d lost you. So be prepared. I’m about to be rather hopeless at holding back.”

Well… “Okay,” Andy laughed and felt a grin spread across her face. “You have to stop saying stuff like that if you don’t want me to cry anymore.”

“I’m serious.” Miranda held her right hand out. It was nearest to the wall and honestly, who would see? Andy barely thought about it for another second before reaching out too. Their hands gently clasped in the middle and, Jesus…Andy started to cry again.

“Sorry…” She wiped her eyes quickly with her free hand, determined to pull herself together because when in the hell was the last time she’d cried like this? She honestly couldn’t remember.

“Don’t…” Miranda said softly, rubbing the top of Andy’s hand with her thumb. “Everything will be alright.” And just like that, Miranda pulled her hand away, reached down for her bag and totally changed the subject. “I was thinking on the way over, even though I was in quite a… _mood_ , that we should change some things.”

Change some things? Oh boy. “Like what?” Andy said hesitantly.

After Miranda got done digging through her bag she pulled out her tablet. Andy had gotten her a Nexus tablet for Christmas. Miranda basically ignored _everybody_ for the rest of the day, playing an _immediately_ downloaded solitaire game on the couch until her eyes just about started to bleed. It was the damnedest thing Andy had ever seen and she could hardly begin to complain about it because who would have ever guessed such a thing was even possible? Needless to say, it was a very merry but very quiet Christmas considering Caroline and Cassidy spent the day with their eyes glued to the TV watching a pile of new movies. Really, Andy wouldn’t have had it any other way. She was just happy to have been invited.

“The calendar,” Miranda finally said once she’d cleared a space on the table. Tapping the screen half a dozen times, she held up the tablet for Andy to see. Their shared Google calendar stared back at her. It was littered with blocks of color; pale green was the most prominent since that represented work hours but there were happy little blocks of light blue and dark purple spread throughout.  Andy smiled and then stopped smiling in almost the very same second because there were blocks of neon pink there too. _Neon pink_...

“You should spend more time with the girls.”

Andy blinked and looked again, feeling something settle inside. “I’d really like that,” she said, still studying the calendar.

“As you can see,” Miranda pointed to the first block, sounding like she was in a board meeting or something. “They’re blank. I imagine the three of you can think of something. In the meantime, however, the days are at least sectioned off so you can plan accordingly.” And then she just kept rambling on, basically explaining the rest of Andy’s life to her like it was the most normal thing in the world. “You know next month,” she slid her finger across the screen, making the next month appear, “I will be traveling for a day or two here and there. I thought perhaps, if you agree of course, I could bring it within myself to drag Emily along, that way you could stay home. With the girls? Instead of Cara?”

“Uh…okay.” Andy shook her head, trying to ignore the fact that her feet were going numb from the realization that this was really happening.

“You’re certain?” Miranda asked her.

Andy shook her head again rather vigorously. “Yeah…yes. Totally. This is just surprising. I’m sorry.”

Miranda nodded then made another confession. She said, “I know, but you were right. You should spend more time with them. And I know you’ve been trying to tell me that… I might not have acted like I was paying attention at the time, but I was.”

Well… _Do not cry_ , Andy told herself and instead of opening her mouth to say something, she just smiled and Miranda took that as her cue to continue.

Looking down at the screen again, she quickly slid her finger across it a handful of times, meaning she was at least six months ahead. For a moment Miranda seemed to study the screen, even going so far as to bite her bottom lip. That was a classic and obviously involuntary move on her part, meaning Miranda was deep in contemplation. Finally she sighed like she always did once a decision had been made and held it up.

Being so far ahead, nothing was colored in here at all, or should have been. But there _was_ color. One block, in the middle of the month, was colored in bright blue. And come to think of it, that same block of bright blue graced the previous month that Miranda had just shown her, Andy just hadn’t been paying attention. And _duh_ , that was technically their _anniversary_. Which meant Miranda kept track. Every single month she’d been keeping track and that was completely unexpected.

It wasn’t left blank either. In bold letters it said: _Move in_. Move in… Wait a second…

“You are no doubt surprised.” Miranda said with a look on her face that told Andy she was braced for the worst possible answer to her unspoken question.

“Yeah…” Andy really didn’t know what to say. “You did all this on the way over?” She asked barely able to think straight, and her voice got a little high pitched there at the end.

“I did,” Miranda said lightly. “And I now know that fiddling with this thing,” she waved her hand over the tablet, “and walking at the same time is clearly not my specialty.”

Andy took a deep breath and smiled, imagining Miranda tripping about five times on her way to the restaurant. Miranda didn’t give her a chance to speak, merely going on, her words carrying a heavy tone of finality.

“I estimate that six months will provide you and the girls plenty of time to get better acquainted. That is needed for such a thing and…it will also provide us with the opportunity to…well, do a lot of things. Speaking purely for myself, I know I have work to do.” Miranda stopped then and nodded her head like she was telling herself that as much as she was telling Andy. And she wasn’t talking about Runway, Andy could tell so she nodded back, accepting Miranda’s self-evaluation for the miracle that it was.

“I am also more than sure,” Miranda continued, “that by then you and I will have become known to the rest of the world and things will have hopefully settled down when the date arrives. If they have not, of course, and you are uncomfortable with the idea, we can postpone. Although, I want to make it clear that I hope that is not the case. There is no limit to the lengths I am prepared to go to protect you and the children, Andrea. I want this very much…and under no circumstances will I allow the media to prevent me from living my life.”

“Oh, I know.” Andy shook her head, seriously feeling like she was in some sort of a stupor. “I know you will.” And that was the absolute truth. There was no doubt in Andy’s mind that New York City would soon be littered with the dead bodies of God only knows how many sneaky little bastards with cameras before it was all over with. Miranda was nothing if not lethal when it came to her kids being messed with and by the look on her face, that meant Andy was included in that equation now.

“I will.” Miranda said again, snapping Andy from her thoughts.

“I know, Miranda.” Andy repeated and this time she was the one to reach across the table. Taking Miranda’s hand she said, “I know you will and I will totally be ready. Totally.”

“As will I,” she said, squeezing Andy’s hand tightly. “And you will need to move on, of course.”

Andy sank down in her chair a bit at this. She knew what Miranda was talking about and as much as she knew it was the truth, she dreaded the day.

“It will bring good things. Do not think it will not be difficult for me.”

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Andy said quickly, straightening her posture. “I was just thinking about me, really. I’m sorry.” Because yeah, this was going to suck for Miranda too. Slower coffee deliveries were likely to kill her.

“I will miss you,” Miranda sighed and Andy instantly felt guilty. Here she’d been thinking about Miranda missing the efficiency but that wasn’t it at all. Or at least not all of it.

“You’re right though. It will bring good things.” Andy smiled and hoped she sounded confident.

Miranda nodded and let go of Andy’s hand, no doubt ready to move on to the next topic on her agenda—whatever that might be. And boy did she move on…

“There is something more...” Miranda reached down again for her handbag. She put the tablet away and whatever she pulled out of it, she kept under the table and Andy immediately found herself holding her breath again. “As you are aware, I have been holding many things back.” Miranda looked up at her with eyes that were clearly watering. “While a complete turnaround might be slow in coming, there are two things that, as of tonight, I will refrain from withholding any longer.”

Andy let go of that held breath only to hold in another, feeling her stomach tighten. Miranda reached across the table then and set something in the middle: a bag of Coconut M&M’s. There was no doubt Andy’s eyes bugged out of her head. And there was possibly a squeal released in there somewhere. To prevent another one from escaping, Andy clapped a hand over her mouth then Miranda did the first of _many_ best things of the night. Or two of the best things…

She _opened_ the bag and as she began to pour the contents into the middle of the table, Miranda said, “No more withholding chocolate. I promise.” There was a small pause and then she said, “And while I’m sure you’re aware…you are quite intelligent after all…I love you, Andrea. It’s high time you heard that.”

Well… Andy was stunned. So stunned she forgot how to talk for a whole minute. While Miranda waited—patiently thank  God—she popped a couple of M&M’s into her mouth like she’d been telling Andy she loved her for ages and it was no big deal at all that this was the first time. But Andy knew better. This was just Miranda’s way of trying to look cool and evidently keep her emotions in check.

Two could certainly play at that game so just as coolly, Andy smiled at her. “I love you too,” she said, popping a few M&M’s into her mouth at the same time. “Thanks for the dessert.”

Miranda smiled back and there was something incredibly mischievous in her eyes all the sudden. Apparently, since it was clear that all had been forgiven and their lives were now mapped out for the next six months at least, they were moving on other things. Andy’d seen that look before and just like always, it made her heart slow down and her skin immediately started to burn for Miranda’s touch.

“Oh, this is more like a dessert _appetizer_ , darling.”

Appetizer… Swallowing hard Andy gave up on sounding cool. “I’m okay with that. Totally okay with that.”

Miranda smirked and before popping a few more M&M’s into her mouth she said, “I thought you might be.”

All Andy could see was Miranda pushing her down into the bed hard after practically ripping off her clothes. One thing was sure, when Miranda was in a certain _mood_ she could care less about being careful with Andy’s clothes.

And it was pretty clear, by the look in her eye that Miranda was in _that_ kind of a mood tonight.

Out of absolutely no where the waiter appeared and Miranda ordered coffee for them both. Andy barely heard her and couldn’t offer up an objection; her mouth was tightly shut against a moan that was just waiting to escape.

“You’re getting wet. Aren’t you?”

Andy opened her eyes—she hadn’t even realized they were closed—and inhaled sharply. Without thinking she said, “ _Don’t_. Please don’t tease me right now.”

Miranda smiled wickedly, of course, and took a sip of her coffee. “But darling, you are the one that arranged for my back to be turned to the crowd.”

“I mean it, Miranda.” Because seriously, when it suited her, Miranda had quite a way with words and could be doubly good at tormenting Andy at the most awful times yet in the most delicious way. And she was already wet; Miranda had guessed correctly, knowing Andy so well.

“Oh, I imagine you can handle it, darling. I imagine you can handle it quite well. Have some coffee why don’t you.”

“I hate you,” Andy whined because not only was Miranda _not_ shutting the fuck up, the look she was giving Andy… God, she was about to melt right into the chair. And hot coffee was _not_ going to help. At all.

In between sips of coffee and handfuls of M&M’s shared between them, Andy resigned herself to Miranda’s mission to make her die right here in the restaurant. By the time it was over with, Andy was not only soaked and burning up, she was lightheaded and hardly breathing. Hearing about how much Miranda would ‘thoroughly enjoy’ fucking her, right here at the table, was definitely not helping. Beyond the bed, they weren’t very adventurous when it came to _places_ to have sex. They always went straight for the bed.

Well there was that one time Andy had delivered the book a few weeks ago, surprising the hell out of Miranda by dragging her to the floor in the study. What was usually just a kiss before leaving after a long day, turned out to be a tremendously great time without so much as a “Hi, how’s your night been? By the way, I’m about to fuck you senseless right here on the carpet.” _Yeah_. And now there was this image of Miranda bending her over this table right here in front of half the neighborhood and Andy knew without actually feeling it that she was squirming.

“Stop squirming.” Miranda said as if on cue.

“Stop _talking_.” Andy growled in a low voice.

“Whatever for? I simply find myself with an overly _active_ imagination tonight. That’s all. It’s been over a week, darling.”

Andy groaned then and rolled her eyes. Giving in completely—at least for a moment—she leaned across the table. “The table?” She asked, barely loud enough for Miranda to hear her. “ _Seriously_?”

“Oh, yes. I’m quite serious.” Miranda raised an eyebrow and regarded her thoughtfully. “Don’t you think it would be lovely?” Miranda leaned in closer and in that low voice that made Andy nearly pass out, she said, “After all, the vision you create…on the bed…on your knees. I am more than confident, Andrea, that you would be equally stunning here. Bent over the table…”

Andy couldn’t help it. She whimpered and banged her fist none too lightly on the table. Miranda actually jumped back. “We’re going,” Andy stated. That’s right… _stated_ and waved to the waiter for the check.

“In a hurry?” Miranda laughed. That’s right… _laughed_. A full-bodied laugh. And loud.

Forget the check. Andy grabbed her wallet out of her bag and threw down more than enough cash to cover their meal. “Let’s go.”

So they went, and silently too because if Andy were to open her mouth it would only be to beg for something that she really couldn’t have right here in the street. Obviously. Surely…

Before Andy’s brain had the chance to completely derail, she felt Miranda grab her arm and pull hard. She said, “I see no reason to wait,” and since Andy was in total agreement she stumbled along as Miranda dragged her down an alleyway between two shops not far from the restaurant.

Once they’d gone down the alley far enough to ensure that they wouldn’t be seen, both their handbags landed on the concrete with a dull thud. Miranda, being so incredibly smart, already knew what Andy wanted and she shoved Andy, face first, against the wall.

Before leaving the townhouse, Andy changed into something more comfortable and her blouse was thin, bra even thinner and as if her nipples weren’t already hard enough—having them rub against the brick. Well, Andy didn’t mind when Miranda pressed her into her even harder with her body. No, she didn’t mind a bit.

Miranda planted Andy’s hands in place against the wall and without a word of warning, bit her hard on the neck then sucked gently, flicking her tongue against Andy’s burning skin.

“ _Fuck_ …” Andy hissed and rolled her hips.

“Oh, I’m about to, darling. I can certainly tell that you’re in _need_ of it.” Miranda whispered into her ear and Andy nearly screamed.

“I do,” Andy panted and rolled her hips back hard against Miranda again. She stifled down another scream when Miranda moved her hands to Andy’s breasts, working absolute magic with her fingers, pinching and rolling Andy’s nipples in between them roughly. All Andy could do was grip the wall in whatever way possible and press back against Miranda in search of some kind of rhythm.

Continuing to alternate between biting, sucking and then gently kissing Andy’s neck, Miranda matched her rhythm and moved a hand down to Andy’s hip. “I missed you,” she said, leaving Andy’s neck for a moment and rubbing her face in Andy’s hair. “So much…I missed you. And I love you like this, darling. When you just can’t help yourself. Completely wild…”

 _Wild_ didn’t even begin to cover what Andy was feeling. Before she could convey that though, Miranda’s other hand disappeared from Andy’s breast and went down to her hip and she felt those same strong hands find their way under Andy’s skirt.

“Please…God, please, Miranda.” Andy begged because even though she knew she didn’t have too; it was a complete turn-on for them both, as was most things. Like what came out of Miranda’s mouth next. Definitely a turn-on.

When Andy felt Miranda start to jerk her panties down, she rolled her hips back hard again, making Miranda moan. “Yes, that’s it darling.” Andy could barely hear her; they were both making too much noise. Miranda gently nudged Andy’s feet apart and when she quite willingly spread them even further, Miranda approved—greatly. She bit Andy’s earlobe and jerked her panties down the rest of the way until there was a ripping sound, making Andy whimper. Then she said, “You’re such a good girl for me, Andrea.”

And that did it. That whole ‘good girl’ routine, if it had been anybody else they’d have been knocked in the head or something because Andy wasn’t anybody’s ‘good girl’…but _damn-it_. The first time Miranda had said it—which happened to be the first time they were together—it took Andy all of two seconds to become a whimpering, pleading mess. Not too long after that it was crystal clear that Miranda was ready, willing and definitely able to fuck Andy until she was out of her mind with just _words_. And Miranda knew damn good and well what that talent did to Andy. Oh, yes, Miranda knew plenty about it because one of her favorite things to do was to lay curled up against Andy’s side, whispering all those _words_ while she shamelessly touched herself with Miranda watching her every move. Yes…that was a favorite for them and had quickly earned Andy the title of ‘Goddess’.

When Andy felt her skirt being shoved up and the cool night air hit her ass, she pressed her face into the wall and moaned, helpless to stop. It didn’t sound like Miranda could help herself either. Especially when she slid a hand down in between Andy’s thighs.

They both gasped and for a moment all movement stopped. Miranda buried her face in Andy’s hair again and whispered, “I was right. You do need this, don’t you?”

“I do,” Andy shook her head, nearly in tears from needing Miranda to move her hand so badly. “I do need it. Please…Please Miranda. You know what I want…”

And God did Miranda know… Slowly, she started moving her whole hand—that was already thoroughly soaked—against Andy who nearly went blind from the sensation of it.

“You like this,” Miranda said in her ear again, making Andy move faster because God, her _words_. “When I make you come _first_ …before…” They moved harder against each other then; Andy was so unbelievably wet that there was hardly any friction.  Miranda added more pressure. “You’ll get so tight, wont you? When you come for me…”

“Yes,” was all Andy could get out, afraid that saying more would only result in her screaming her head off.

“And then I’ll go inside.” Miranda gasped when Andy bent her knees a little and pushed hard against the heel of her palm and after that Miranda could barely come up with complete sentences. But, her words were no less effective on Andy. And she could feel Miranda grinding against her ass harder…yet another turn-on. “You’ll be so good for me, darling,” Miranda finally managed to say. “And I’ll open you up so wide…”

That was it. Andy couldn’t take anymore and she beat her fist against the wall, knowing what was coming next. Desperate now, Andy pushed upward, offering herself up for that explosive orgasm Miranda was _always_ ever so capable of ripping out of her very soul. She ached for it. Begged and pleaded for it. And then it was finally there…almost sneaking up on her.

Immediately forgetting where they were, Andy started to scream. Miranda covered her mouth, all the while saying the sorts of things that just made her come again even harder. In the middle of it all she kept riding that strong hand fast and hard and finally, Miranda—like always—couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Can you keep quiet?” She panted. “It’s so beautiful…I have to see you. The way you move.”

Andy could do nothing but shake her head over and over. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she really could be quiet but there was no way she was being denied this. There was no way she was denying Miranda her show either. She loved watching Andy lose all control and match each thrust of Miranda’s hand with the slow but forceful rocking motion of her hips. After all, Miranda made a goddamn career out of _looking_ and _watching_ every single day…so of course she loved it. Of course…

Miranda moved her hand from Andy’s mouth and placed it on her hip. Another round of desperate pleas escaped from Andy even though she knew exactly what she was about to get—whether she begged or not.

It was hard and fast and rough…exactly what she wanted. In between moaning, whimpering and losing her mind, she heard Miranda say a string of hardly-ever-uttered curse words and then something about the fact that her heart was about to explode…and that Andy was so tight and hot and being so good…

Almost blind to everything except the burning hot sensation of Miranda thoroughly fucking her, Andy barely felt her move back a step. She smiled though, somehow, and moved faster, giving Miranda her show.

“That’s it, darling. That’s what I want… I need to watch you fuck yourself on my fingers. I need to…”

Going weak in the knees with every word Miranda managed to say, Andy felt the inevitable buildup and knew she wouldn’t be able to last much longer. That was probably just as well, considering where they were.

Andy buried her face in her arm and once Miranda started twisting her fingers over and over with each stroke, there was nothing to do but come. Feeling each time her body gripped Miranda’s fingers that were now completely still inside her, Andy cried into her arm, tears streaming down her face once again because when Miranda held her tightly around the waist to keep her from falling, it finally hit her that the worry and desperation of wanting to have something lasting with Miranda was over. It was over. Everything was settled.

Andy would get closer to the girls. Andy would move in. Miranda would protect them with everything she had. Miranda wanted and needed her. Miranda needed _them_ and Andy would do her damndest to make sure it stayed that way. Even if she had to have another horrible post-it note party one day down the line—because let’s face it, Miranda was still going to be an idiot once in a while—she’d do it. She’d do anything to keep them together.

Especially since Miranda had just learned to share her M&M’s.

Feeling Miranda slide out of her, brought Andy out of a blissful haze. She stayed still though, fully leaning against the wall for support and sighed, content and safe as Miranda smoothed down her skirt then wrapped both arms tight around her waist.

“I love you,” she said, still breathing heavily. “I love you so much…so much, Miranda.”

Miranda turned her around carefully, keeping a tight hold on her waist. “I know you do,” she said, hugging Andy even tighter. “I know you do. And I love you. I will show you how much…just stay with me. Please, just stay...”

“Oh, Miranda…” Andy took her face in her hands and kissed her. This was the first kiss they’d shared since being on the couch earlier and it was deep and soft and made up for the few hours they’d spent apart tonight.

She wasn’t quite sure how she managed it but finally Andy had enough strength to turn them both. The heat radiating from Miranda’s body was like a furnace and the way she dug her nails into Andy’s back…well that was all encouragement Andy needed.

Disregarding the fact that they were still in this dark alley, Andy managed to kick away her ripped panties that had fallen around one leg. Moving her hands down Miranda’s waist and pulling away from their kiss, she said, “I know what you need, Miranda.”

Even in the dark Andy could see Miranda’s eyes close. She bit her lip then and faintly whispered, “Oh, I’m sure you do, Andrea.”

“I do…” Andy replied and kissed Miranda again, slowly pulling her dress up to her hips inch by inch.

If Miranda had thought even for a second that Andy was done being a good girl…a goddess…in this alley, then she better hang on because Andy had barely begun to earn either title tonight.

Having kept Miranda’s mouth occupied long enough to get her dress gathered up around her waist; Andy grabbed her hands and pulled them down until Miranda caught on. She held the dress up on her own and soon her panties were ripped down and kicked aside. By now Miranda was panting so hard, and Andy could practically hear her heart thundering in her chest…because this was one of Miranda’s favorite things.

“You want this, Miranda?” Andy asked, already knowing the answer but damn-it—Andy could be pretty good at working Miranda up into an awfully desperate state with _words_ too.  Miranda was half out of her mind already and couldn’t speak. All she could do was lean against the wall and attempt to breathe. “Do you want me to lick you?” Andy asked, reaching down, sliding her fingers so gently over Miranda. That always drove her crazy; when she wanted it so badly but Andy only teased and teased. “Do you want my tongue? Inside? Do you want me to be good?”

Miranda’s head fell back against the wall. “Yes, yes…please, darling…please…”

The ‘please’ is what ended the torture. Andy dropped to her knees, thankful that it hadn’t rained in ages so the ground was dry. But honestly, she would have done it regardless.

In fact, she’d rather let an entire truck load of M&M’s go into the trash than miss out on what she was about to taste.

 

 

 


End file.
